In the darkened theater, I was very aware that I was the only female over the age of 18 in the place. The giggles, cell phone glows, and over-sprayed pungent perfume were a dead giveaway. Beside me, my 13 year old daughter was staring at the screen and trying to keep her elbow from touching mine, which rested on the armrest between us.
Stay cool, I told myself. Do not do anything remotely embarrassing. This may very well be one of the last times she allows you to accompany her to a teen flick in public. Just watch the movie.
****
Oh HELL. A PG-13 love scene. Look away. Do NOT look at her.
****
If those little shits behind us don't shut up....no, I have to just pretend I'm not a mean old lady who wants to pull them out by their ears. Stay calm.
****
Look at her, completely caught up in the story. I'm so lucky that she still wants to hang out with me at all. She looks so happy and beautiful. How the heck did I make a human that gorgeous? Oh shit!...she caught me looking at her. Abort abort!
****
Great, a sad scene. I will not cry I will not cry I will not cry...well, crap. Now I'm crying. Can't let her see. My eye itches...but I can't scratch it because then she'll think I'm wiping a tear away, and she'll never want to see another movie with me ever. My eye does not itch My eye does not itch My eye does not itch. Why did I think that would work?
****
Roll credits. I made it out alive, without making my daughter pretend she didn't know me. I think I might just have a shot and not sucking all of the time. Score.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
I'm not wearing the friggin' nose
I found out a few days ago that my co-workers and I are much closer to being "outsourced" than we initially thought. It sucks, yes, but it's also sort of exciting for a fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants chick, like myself. I know I should be freaked out and cultivating a killer ulcer, but I can't help looking forward to a new chapter. I've spent six miserable, hellish, rotten years with my employer, and I am ready to not work there anymore.
I know, I'm not 19 anymore and I should be more responsible. Shutty.
So anyway, my work-husband and I were discussing what I would do if the inevitable happens sooner rather than later, and we were trying to decide what my talents are, via work email (take that corporate shit heads!). Hilarity ensues:
Taco: I think I'd be a very good clown. Except, without the make up and unicycling.
WH: Well duh, you don't own make up and you can't even walk a straight line, much less ride a unicycle. I think you're better suited for singing telegrams....for deaf people.
Taco: Bite me. I am EXTREMELY talented and you're just jealous. You jealous fart face, you.
WH: You should be a preschooler. You're really good at acting four. Oh, and by the way....BURN.
Taco: I know you are but what am I?
WH: I'm rubber - you're glue.
Taco: No fair...
WH: You're really good with the comebacks, too. Maybe you should be a comedy writer...or a smart ass consultant. You would excel in the field of smart assyness.
Taco: I think you should take a job as a STINKY BUTT HEAD!!
WH: See, you're a natural.
Taco: ....I'm also very good at shooting rubber bands. I almost always hit my target.
WH: That's it!!! You are the world's first Smartass Rubber Band Clown Assassin!
Taco: ....
WH: Tah dah.
I know, I'm not 19 anymore and I should be more responsible. Shutty.
So anyway, my work-husband and I were discussing what I would do if the inevitable happens sooner rather than later, and we were trying to decide what my talents are, via work email (take that corporate shit heads!). Hilarity ensues:
Taco: I think I'd be a very good clown. Except, without the make up and unicycling.
WH: Well duh, you don't own make up and you can't even walk a straight line, much less ride a unicycle. I think you're better suited for singing telegrams....for deaf people.
Taco: Bite me. I am EXTREMELY talented and you're just jealous. You jealous fart face, you.
WH: You should be a preschooler. You're really good at acting four. Oh, and by the way....BURN.
Taco: I know you are but what am I?
WH: I'm rubber - you're glue.
Taco: No fair...
WH: You're really good with the comebacks, too. Maybe you should be a comedy writer...or a smart ass consultant. You would excel in the field of smart assyness.
Taco: I think you should take a job as a STINKY BUTT HEAD!!
WH: See, you're a natural.
Taco: ....I'm also very good at shooting rubber bands. I almost always hit my target.
WH: That's it!!! You are the world's first Smartass Rubber Band Clown Assassin!
Taco: ....
WH: Tah dah.
Monday, August 4, 2008
The day Garfield warned me about
It almost never fails.
You manage to get through the morning smoothly, arrive to work on time and in good spirits, and proceed to kick the crap out of the stacks of work waiting on your desk. Before you know it, it's midday and your mood has actually improved ,thanks to good music and background blocking ear buds. It is going to be a good day, indeed.
Then.
It's always on Mondays when a child gets ill; When your bosses assume you're nursing a hangover or just don't want to be there. Out the door you fly to rescue your poopy-feeling offspring, noting that you'll have to go in to the office on Saturday to make up the hours missed. (Side note: American corporations needs to get a frikken clue about sick days. A parent can not possibly handle all doctor/dentists appointments plus days that a child has to stay home sick or when school is closed, on THREE measly sick days.)
After picking up the sick child, you realize that he's not sick and only had a bit of yucky belly after breakfast. However, you're required to sign something about the "incident" (aka: el poopoo rapido) and told not to bring him back for at least 24 hours. No fever, no lethargic behavior, no more ick. But those are the rules. You have no more sick time at work. And the "ill" child is trying to do back flips by running up the side of your body.
In desperation, you contact the child's father to beg him to take care of his spawn the next day; The same man who has not taken a day off for anything in almost five years. He is, of course, too busy at work to help. But, he's really bummed that he can't help. Then you mentally curse him with scabies and male pattern baldness as you slam the cell phone shut. Guilt about being worried about work when your child needs you sets in and clamps down on your heart like an industrial vice.
Hey, since you're having such a great day, why don't you start cooking dinner in 95 degree heat while four dogs compete for first position UP YOUR BUTT, and then serve said dinner to invisible people? Because the only ones eating it will be you and your non-sick child. The other adults in the house will forget to tell you that they're not getting home until well past dinner, even though you're expected to cook for their fat rumps every day at the same time.
Take a breath. Have half a beer in an icy mug. Relax. It's almost over and it could most definitely be worse.
Just when you find your Zen buried under the fury, you realize that your not really sick child is looking a little puny. You stick a thermometer in his mouth and lo, it reads 100 degrees in the shade. You kick yourself for being such a whiner and administer orange juice, Tylenol, and favorite stuffed animals.
Then you collapse into a heap in front of the computer to do a few hours of work after the poor tot has faded off to sleep, and mentally prepare yourself for the dead of night awakenings that are sure to occur because of fever nightmares. Then you feel guilty for dreading them.
Sigh. Monday.
You manage to get through the morning smoothly, arrive to work on time and in good spirits, and proceed to kick the crap out of the stacks of work waiting on your desk. Before you know it, it's midday and your mood has actually improved ,thanks to good music and background blocking ear buds. It is going to be a good day, indeed.
Then.
It's always on Mondays when a child gets ill; When your bosses assume you're nursing a hangover or just don't want to be there. Out the door you fly to rescue your poopy-feeling offspring, noting that you'll have to go in to the office on Saturday to make up the hours missed. (Side note: American corporations needs to get a frikken clue about sick days. A parent can not possibly handle all doctor/dentists appointments plus days that a child has to stay home sick or when school is closed, on THREE measly sick days.)
After picking up the sick child, you realize that he's not sick and only had a bit of yucky belly after breakfast. However, you're required to sign something about the "incident" (aka: el poopoo rapido) and told not to bring him back for at least 24 hours. No fever, no lethargic behavior, no more ick. But those are the rules. You have no more sick time at work. And the "ill" child is trying to do back flips by running up the side of your body.
In desperation, you contact the child's father to beg him to take care of his spawn the next day; The same man who has not taken a day off for anything in almost five years. He is, of course, too busy at work to help. But, he's really bummed that he can't help. Then you mentally curse him with scabies and male pattern baldness as you slam the cell phone shut. Guilt about being worried about work when your child needs you sets in and clamps down on your heart like an industrial vice.
Hey, since you're having such a great day, why don't you start cooking dinner in 95 degree heat while four dogs compete for first position UP YOUR BUTT, and then serve said dinner to invisible people? Because the only ones eating it will be you and your non-sick child. The other adults in the house will forget to tell you that they're not getting home until well past dinner, even though you're expected to cook for their fat rumps every day at the same time.
Take a breath. Have half a beer in an icy mug. Relax. It's almost over and it could most definitely be worse.
Just when you find your Zen buried under the fury, you realize that your not really sick child is looking a little puny. You stick a thermometer in his mouth and lo, it reads 100 degrees in the shade. You kick yourself for being such a whiner and administer orange juice, Tylenol, and favorite stuffed animals.
Then you collapse into a heap in front of the computer to do a few hours of work after the poor tot has faded off to sleep, and mentally prepare yourself for the dead of night awakenings that are sure to occur because of fever nightmares. Then you feel guilty for dreading them.
Sigh. Monday.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Everyone has a enviable talent
On the way to work today, I saw a hooker do a cartwheel on the sidewalk in front of a Chinese-American-Seafood-Fried Chicken eatery. She was wearing a blue and silver sequined mini-dress and black high-top sneakers, and she (no pun intended) nailed it.
I don't want to be a hooker or anything, but I found myself a little jealous and thinking, "Damn. I wish I could still do cartwheel."
My mind worries me sometimes.
I don't want to be a hooker or anything, but I found myself a little jealous and thinking, "Damn. I wish I could still do cartwheel."
My mind worries me sometimes.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Outraged!
From the Star Tribune, Minnesota-St. Paul:
Minneapolis police: A mistake, an apology and then medals
By RODRIGO ZAMITH, Star Tribune
July 30, 2008
First, the city apologized. Then it gave awards.
Eight Minneapolis officers received medals in City Hall Monday for their valor in a botched raid that the city apologized for last year. That isn't sitting well with the family shot at multiple times by the officers.
"I'm shocked that they're receiving awards for that night," said Yee Moua. "My family is a mess right now. My [9-year-old] son, who saw the shooting, still has nightmares and has needed therapy. They've ruined a life, and I don't understand why they would get rewarded for that."
The awards stemmed from a high-risk search in December. The eight officers -- who had SWAT training -- entered the house expecting to find a violent gang member. Instead, they found Vang Khang, a 35-year-old homeowner who thought he was being robbed. Khang shot through his bedroom door at the officers until he understood who they were.
In the midst of the shootout were Moua, who is Khang's wife, and their six children, who range in age from 3 to 15. Moua said her family has since abandoned the house and can no longer afford to keep it.
Minneapolis police spokesman Sgt. William Palmer said Tuesday the department has acknowledged the raid was a mistake and has apologized to the family. But he said the officers "performed very bravely under gunfire and made smart decisions."
Minneapolis Police Chief Tim Dolan said that he knew giving the award might get negative attention but that "we've never not recognized an officer shot in the line of duty."
Three officers received shrapnel damage to body armor and their ballistic helmets, Palmer said.
Dolan said he did not speak with the family prior to the award ceremony, but he did speak with Hmong community leaders in north Minneapolis who were "mostly understanding."
"I can understand [Moua's] feelings, but the officers didn't make any mistakes and they were able to stop things from getting worse," Dolan said. "Like the old maxim says, 'You don't punish your officers for the mistake of the general.'"
'We almost died that night'
Police said they acted on bad information from an informant, who reportedly was a victim of a crime at a house in the 1300 block of Logan Avenue N. Police said they had no reason to believe the information was inaccurate and they had the right address on the warrant, but the house wasn't occupied by anybody they wanted.
The raid was part of an investigation by the department's Violent Offender Task Force, which typically goes after the most violent gang members and drug dealers. Officers had retrieved guns in searches connected with the case before the raid.
According to police, officers entered the home without knocking -- a standard procedure in cases where officers expected to find weapons -- and called out, "Police!" as they searched the home's first floor. They didn't find anybody, so went to the second floor. At a small landing at the top of the stairs, they again shouted, "Police!"
Shots then came through the walls and doors as officers searched two bedrooms, police said. It was Khang shooting from a third bedroom.
Authorities said there were children in the other bedrooms, and the officers quickly realized there was a language barrier. The older children were able to communicate to their father that police were in the house and to stop shooting.
"As soon as they started taking fire, [officers] got in front of the kids and used their body as a shield," Palmer said. "They used great restraint and shot precisely at where the bullets were coming back from."
Moua disputed the police account.
"They never identified themselves; we thought they were a whole bunch of drunk, crazy guys," she said. "We didn't know anything until my oldest son yelled, 'Dad, it's the police!'"
She also said the officers did not try to protect her children, but rather hid themselves behind furniture and shot back indiscriminately. She said officers treated her and her husband roughly, and did not explain the situation after the two surrendered.
"They stepped on my husband, and we kept asking, 'Where are the bad guys?'" she said. "We were just trying to protect ours kids. We almost died that night."
Lawsuit against the city
Sgt. Jesse Garcia said the city conducted an internal affairs investigation after the raid and the SWAT team was cleared of any wrongdoing. He said no other details were available because the investigation was still open.
Casper Hill, a spokesman for the city of Minneapolis, said the city has reimbursed the Khang family $7,500 for "miscellaneous expenses."
The family's lawyer, Thomas Heffelfinger, said that he has had ongoing conversations with the city attorney's office and that there will be a lawsuit if they cannot reach a resolution.
"They fired 22 rounds with 9 millimeter automatic weapons into a room with two adults and four children," Heffelfinger said. "That's not protecting kids. They were firing at a room they couldn't see into. They fired with the intent to kill the person on the other side of the door.
"To give these men awards for that behavior is nothing more than an attempt to sanitize their conduct."
Heffelfinger also said the family had lived at the house for four years and had no history of wrongdoing. He said police "failed to do their homework" and "acted outrageously once they got there."
Officers receiving medals of commendation included Sgt. Nicholas Torborg and officers Steven Blackwell, Matthew Kaminski, Ricardo Muro and Craig Taylor. Sgt. Michael Young and officers John Sheneman and Alan Williams received medals of valor.
"We knew there might be political implications with this," Palmer said. "We're not passing judgment today on the rest of what happened there. But those officers were shot in the line of duty, and there isn't an appropriate level of award for that."
**********
First, somebody needs to tell the writer that he does not necessarily need a new paragraph for EVERY sentence.
Second, OH MY GOD. How stupid does a person have to give awards to men who made what could have been a fatal mistake? I'm just so frikken mad right now about this.
Must go throw a rock at something. Maybe if I hit someone with it and then apologize, they'll give me $20 or a big blue ribbon for accuracy.
Stupid fucks.
Minneapolis police: A mistake, an apology and then medals
By RODRIGO ZAMITH, Star Tribune
July 30, 2008
First, the city apologized. Then it gave awards.
Eight Minneapolis officers received medals in City Hall Monday for their valor in a botched raid that the city apologized for last year. That isn't sitting well with the family shot at multiple times by the officers.
"I'm shocked that they're receiving awards for that night," said Yee Moua. "My family is a mess right now. My [9-year-old] son, who saw the shooting, still has nightmares and has needed therapy. They've ruined a life, and I don't understand why they would get rewarded for that."
The awards stemmed from a high-risk search in December. The eight officers -- who had SWAT training -- entered the house expecting to find a violent gang member. Instead, they found Vang Khang, a 35-year-old homeowner who thought he was being robbed. Khang shot through his bedroom door at the officers until he understood who they were.
In the midst of the shootout were Moua, who is Khang's wife, and their six children, who range in age from 3 to 15. Moua said her family has since abandoned the house and can no longer afford to keep it.
Minneapolis police spokesman Sgt. William Palmer said Tuesday the department has acknowledged the raid was a mistake and has apologized to the family. But he said the officers "performed very bravely under gunfire and made smart decisions."
Minneapolis Police Chief Tim Dolan said that he knew giving the award might get negative attention but that "we've never not recognized an officer shot in the line of duty."
Three officers received shrapnel damage to body armor and their ballistic helmets, Palmer said.
Dolan said he did not speak with the family prior to the award ceremony, but he did speak with Hmong community leaders in north Minneapolis who were "mostly understanding."
"I can understand [Moua's] feelings, but the officers didn't make any mistakes and they were able to stop things from getting worse," Dolan said. "Like the old maxim says, 'You don't punish your officers for the mistake of the general.'"
'We almost died that night'
Police said they acted on bad information from an informant, who reportedly was a victim of a crime at a house in the 1300 block of Logan Avenue N. Police said they had no reason to believe the information was inaccurate and they had the right address on the warrant, but the house wasn't occupied by anybody they wanted.
The raid was part of an investigation by the department's Violent Offender Task Force, which typically goes after the most violent gang members and drug dealers. Officers had retrieved guns in searches connected with the case before the raid.
According to police, officers entered the home without knocking -- a standard procedure in cases where officers expected to find weapons -- and called out, "Police!" as they searched the home's first floor. They didn't find anybody, so went to the second floor. At a small landing at the top of the stairs, they again shouted, "Police!"
Shots then came through the walls and doors as officers searched two bedrooms, police said. It was Khang shooting from a third bedroom.
Authorities said there were children in the other bedrooms, and the officers quickly realized there was a language barrier. The older children were able to communicate to their father that police were in the house and to stop shooting.
"As soon as they started taking fire, [officers] got in front of the kids and used their body as a shield," Palmer said. "They used great restraint and shot precisely at where the bullets were coming back from."
Moua disputed the police account.
"They never identified themselves; we thought they were a whole bunch of drunk, crazy guys," she said. "We didn't know anything until my oldest son yelled, 'Dad, it's the police!'"
She also said the officers did not try to protect her children, but rather hid themselves behind furniture and shot back indiscriminately. She said officers treated her and her husband roughly, and did not explain the situation after the two surrendered.
"They stepped on my husband, and we kept asking, 'Where are the bad guys?'" she said. "We were just trying to protect ours kids. We almost died that night."
Lawsuit against the city
Sgt. Jesse Garcia said the city conducted an internal affairs investigation after the raid and the SWAT team was cleared of any wrongdoing. He said no other details were available because the investigation was still open.
Casper Hill, a spokesman for the city of Minneapolis, said the city has reimbursed the Khang family $7,500 for "miscellaneous expenses."
The family's lawyer, Thomas Heffelfinger, said that he has had ongoing conversations with the city attorney's office and that there will be a lawsuit if they cannot reach a resolution.
"They fired 22 rounds with 9 millimeter automatic weapons into a room with two adults and four children," Heffelfinger said. "That's not protecting kids. They were firing at a room they couldn't see into. They fired with the intent to kill the person on the other side of the door.
"To give these men awards for that behavior is nothing more than an attempt to sanitize their conduct."
Heffelfinger also said the family had lived at the house for four years and had no history of wrongdoing. He said police "failed to do their homework" and "acted outrageously once they got there."
Officers receiving medals of commendation included Sgt. Nicholas Torborg and officers Steven Blackwell, Matthew Kaminski, Ricardo Muro and Craig Taylor. Sgt. Michael Young and officers John Sheneman and Alan Williams received medals of valor.
"We knew there might be political implications with this," Palmer said. "We're not passing judgment today on the rest of what happened there. But those officers were shot in the line of duty, and there isn't an appropriate level of award for that."
**********
First, somebody needs to tell the writer that he does not necessarily need a new paragraph for EVERY sentence.
Second, OH MY GOD. How stupid does a person have to give awards to men who made what could have been a fatal mistake? I'm just so frikken mad right now about this.
Must go throw a rock at something. Maybe if I hit someone with it and then apologize, they'll give me $20 or a big blue ribbon for accuracy.
Stupid fucks.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
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